“If anyone.” Maddie sniffed.
“Oh, ye of little faith.” Chris tsked with his tongue.
A pang struck Maddie’s stomach. He’d spoken flippantly, but the truth hurt. She had too many reasons to doubt for faith to be more than a flicker in her soul.
Biting back a sharp answer, Maddie rose. She took one of the cameras and positioned it where Chris suggested on a shelf in the television cabinet. Another one went in the bathroom on the counter, camouflaged inside an unzipped shaving kit. They left the last one on the desk, facing the room’s entrance.
“We should easily catch faces on tape,” Chris pronounced with a nod. “Along with some nice action shots of our attackers while they’re pumping bullets at us. Now it’s time to make a fateful phone call.” He held out his hand.
Maddie pursed her lips then tossed the handset to Chris. She’d be good with fateful as long as this scheme didn’t take a nasty turn toward fatal.
* * *
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Agent Clyde Ramsey snarled into Chris’s ear. “What meeting at a paper plant?”
“Don’t play innocent with me, Ramsey,” Chris said into the phone. He checked to make sure the recorder hooked up to the receiver was working properly. It was. He bottled a smile. “I saw you, and Jerrard heard you.”
“If you’re so sure it was me, why don’t you turn yourselves in and tell the arresting officers all about it?”
Chris’s stomach knotted. Was this clown really going to play hardball and call their bluff? One way to find out.
“If I hang up without getting satisfaction from you, that’s exactly what we’ll do, and take our chances with the law. That is, after I’ve pulled in a few favors and gone on television with our story. I’m sure Fernando Ortiz and your boss on this side of the border will be pleased with the publicity.”
A soft hiss of breath answered him. Gotcha!
“What is it you want?” The words were low and tight.
“Get with whoever is in charge of your smuggling outfit in the States and authorize a payoff for Madeleine Jerrard and me to go away. We want five million dollars wired to an off-shore account and a flight on a private jet to Rio, with resident visas waiting for us on the other end. And be quick about it.”
“You don’t want much, do you?” Ramsey varnished his tone with a thin sneer.
“Pocket change, and you know it. We’re tired of hanging out in the wind, targets for assassination or arrest. We want to get you out of our hair as much as you want us out of yours.”
Silence blanketed the air for several heartbeats.
“What’s the bank account number for the wire transfer?”
“Not so fast, Ramsey. We want to see you face-to-face—mano a mano. You are going to personally accompany us on the flight to Rio, and Ms. Jerrard will have her eye on you the entire way so there is no double-cross.”
The DEA agent spat a foul word. “I’ll have to get back to you on the arrangements. Might take an hour or two. What phone number should I use to call you back?”
Chris chuckled, the knot in his chest easing. So far, so good. “Don’t play me for an idiot. Trying to get a fix on us by our phone number? We’ll call you in one hour, not a minute longer, and you’d better have the arrangements all set.” He jammed the handset into its cradle and looked up at Maddie.
A smile toyed with the edges of her lips, but she shook her head. “You know we’re playing patty-cake with a nest of rattlers, don’t you?”
“Let’s get ready to bite them back.”
She jerked a nod, and they swung into action.
An hour later, Chris got on the phone with Ramsey again.
“Are we good to go?” he asked the DEA agent.
“We’re on board at this end. You two disappearing is a good deal for us, too. It’ll take some of the heat off. The Jackson murder case will be considered solved even though the perps got away.” Ramsey chuckled.
“The shooter was you, I presume?”
“I don’t shoot and tell.” The smugness in the reply was as good as a confession. “Let’s just say the guy’s conscience had been working overtime, and we were a little nervous what he might blab if the right buttons were pushed.”
“So you rushed right over to your partner’s house and shut him up forever before we could get to him. I guess in your line of work it pays to have no conscience.”
“Don’t go all self-righteous, Mason, when you’re boarding the gravy train with me.” The steam in the snarl could have shriveled a cactus.
“Just trying to survive.” Touchy, touchy, he mouthed to Maddie, who sat in a guest chair close enough to hear every word of the conversation.
Her scowl lightened the least bit. If he were Ramsey and caught a glimpse of the look in the eyes of a woman as dangerous as Madeleine Jerrard, he’d run so fast his legs could hardly keep up with him. This slick sellout wasn’t that smart.
“We’ll meet you at dawn in the airport terminal,” he told the DEA agent, “only we won’t look like us, but don’t worry. Just stand around in the terminal twiddling your thumbs, and we will find you. Then we fly pronto, so have the plane gassed up and ready.”
“Sure, sure. Anything else you want, your majesty?”
“Har-de-har. Be there. Be alone. And soon enough you’ll get your wish to be rid of us.”
“I’m counting on it.” The agent broke the connection.
Chris looked at Maddie. “Hanging up like that, he must be pretty confident he got a read on our location.”
“I told you, Mason, digital traces are almost instantaneous. The hour we gave them between phone calls gave him plenty of time to set up the equipment.”
“Then we can expect company shortly. There’s no way they won’t take this opportunity to silence us permanently for the cost of a few ounces of lead.”
“Roger that.”
Chris stifled a chuckle at the crisp military talk emerging from the lips of one who resembled a gray-haired candidate for the Red Hat Society. She was awfully cute, even as a senior citizen.
Would he get the opportunity to know Maddie at that age?
He shoved the foolish question away. He hadn’t forgotten his personal commitment to keep his head on straight, even though his resolve had turned as slippery as a greased eel. But even if they survived this mess, and Maddie was no longer on his off-limits list, the chances were slim to none that their relationship would develop into something lasting. She might be attracted to him, but she couldn’t bring herself to wholly trust him. No relationship could survive such suspicion.
He turned his wheelchair away from her. “Let’s get ready to be murdered.”
TWELVE
The odor of cleaning solutions tingled in Maddie’s nostrils as she hunkered on her haunches next to Chris’s wheelchair between a housekeeping cart and a rack full of towels. Popping the lock on the door of this closet hadn’t taken much finesse, but she wasn’t crazy about their surroundings. Too confined. Only one exit. But there was no way to change their location now, even if she had an idea for a better one.
Chris stared at the receiver screen clutched in his hands, then let out a hoot like he was jeering at a sports play. Maddie jerked then huffed. Somebody was having way too much fun.
“All riiiight, maggots!” He snickered. “Come on in with guns blazing.”
Maddie studied his profile. There wasn’t much light where they hid in the housekeeper’s closet down the hall from their hotel room, but the bluish glow from the monitor painted Chris’s feral face with an eerie patina as if he were some manic Highland warrior.
She returned her attention to the view on the screen that had him mesmerized. The camera on the desk was picking up movement at the door. The resolution was grainy at best, so it hadn’t been able to
show what must have happened seconds ago—the unlatching of the dead bolt with a neat turn from a powerful magnet applied on the other side of the entrance. Now the door crept open and a dark figure was removing a high-tech device from the keycard slot.
None of the small sounds that must have accompanied these actions carried through the audio feed from the unit on the desk, the only one Maddie had left active for audio. All they heard was the nattering, clapping and laughter from a popular late-night talk show on the television.
“Yessss!” Chris’s hiss raised the hairs on the back of Maddie’s neck as much as the sight of a second man slinking through the door.
She held her breath. Who was he? The camera shot wasn’t yet good enough to tell. The first man moved past the entrance to the bathroom and came within identification range of the camera on the desk. Ramsey. Definitely.
The DEA agent crept closer, and the camera near the television began to pick him up, as well. In a separate window on the receiver screen, the second camera displayed an awesome shot of Ramsey’s face, lips peeled back in a toxic snarl. The guy must smoke like a tire factory to have such yellow teeth. In a gloved hand, he trained a gun fitted with a fat silencer on the back of the inflatable head and torso propped in a guest chair in front of the television set.
The second man stopped beside the door to the bathroom. He must hear the shower water running—exactly as planned. The gun-toting conspirators exchanged nods. Chills shimmered through Maddie. How weird to be able to watch from the outside when a bullet is about to tear through what they think is a live target—you!
Ramsey opened fire on the dummy in front of the television, and the TV noises abruptly stilled amidst the sound of the shattering screen. The second man rammed through the bathroom door and popped shots toward the inflated figure standing under the cold shower—hot water
would have steamed up the camera lens. Killer number two’s face sprang into sharp focus, and a sour taste entered Maddie’s mouth. How disappointing.
“That’s not Special Agent Blunt,” Chris pronounced.
“No, unfortunately. I’ve never met this guy before, but we have seen him.”
“The agent standing next to Blunt during Jess’s news broadcast.”
“How do we find out his name?”
“Leave that to me, Grasshopper.”
Curses carried to them through the receiver. Ramsey had checked the status of his supposed kill and had discovered he’d assassinated a blow-up doll wearing a man’s blond wig. The second killer emerged from the bathroom indulging in similar slang.
“I popped a mega-balloon,” the man said to Ramsey.
“Me, too. They didn’t trust us and cleared out. Let’s do the same. We’ll have to take them when they show up at the airport.”
“If they do.” The rogue FBI agent snorted.
“We can always hope. The boss is not going to be happy.”
The pair trotted from the room and closed the door after themselves with an audible thunk.
Maddie heaved out a long breath. “Too bad they didn’t mention Jess’s name, rather than the generic ‘boss’ terminology.”
Chris chuckled. “We lassoed the moon, and you want the stars, too? In good time. All in good time.”
“You really enjoy this cloak-and-dagger stuff.” She awarded him a wide-eyed glare as she rose from her haunches to a standing position.
“You don’t?” His eyebrows lifted.
“Gives me the willies. This is creepy CIA-type junk. We rangers don’t skulk around in closets. We face our enemies.”
Chris sighed as he tucked the video-receiver screen into its carrying pouch that he’d attached to his belt. “Before this is over, you’re all too likely to get your wish.”
“Shh!” Maddie gripped his arm and stared toward the closet door, pulse hammering in her throat.
The lock clicked and the door handle turned. Was Chris’s prophecy about to come true?
Maddie’s gut clenched. If she’d spent hours dreaming up worst-case scenarios, she couldn’t have arrived at a more vulnerable location for them in a face-off. No way to retreat and no room to maneuver. Why hadn’t she protested when he insisted they take cover in an enclosed space?
Her muscles gathered into combat mode. If Ramsey and his sidekick were beyond that door, quick thinking and quicker reflexes might be all that stood between
them and sudden death.
* * *
Busted!
Chris stared up into a pair of angry brown eyes. They belonged to a Hispanic man dressed in neatly pressed slacks and a button-down shirt with a name tag pinned to it that said Manager.
“Guests reported voices coming from this closet,” the manager said. “I could not imagine such a thing to be true. Who are you, and what are you doing here? Stealing supplies?” The man’s gaze scanned them up and down, then performed a rapid sweep across the contents of the closet.
Maddie shifted her stance, and Chris folded his fingers around her forearm. The sinews beneath his fingertips were taut as guitar strings.
“Not thieves, sir,” Chris answered. “Frivolous guests playing a rather ill-advised game of hide-and-seek. We apologize for causing trouble.”
The manager’s dark brows snapped together. “You’re registered guests?”
“Certainly. If you will check your records, you will find a Chris Morse on your register.”
“Hmm.” The man frowned. “How did you get in here? The supply closet is kept locked.”
“Ah, I’m afraid my—er, nurse—” he glanced up at a stone-faced Maddie “—is quite handy with such things. A hobby of hers.”
The manager’s eyes darkened. “I’m calling security.” He swiped a two-way radio from a tooled leather belt.
“While you do that, would you mind if we stepped out? I’m suddenly feeling claustrophobic.”
Chris released his hold on Maddie’s arm, and she took her cue as if they’d planned the next move. They were quite a team if she’d only admit it. Pushing his wheelchair forward, she gave the manager no option but to retreat or be run over. The man scrambled backward, barking commands into his walkie-talkie.
Without missing a beat, Maddie marched the wheelchair up the hall away from their room. Good girl. Lead pursuit away from that area.
The last thing they needed was for the bullet holes in the walls and furnishings to be discovered before they were clear of the hotel. The evidence of foul play would bring the cops swarming, and it wouldn’t take them long to run a few prints and find out exactly who had occupied that room. Then the dog-and-pony show would really begin with multiple law enforcement agencies and media-types converging. Maybe the extra publicity for the hotel would make up for the cost of repairing their hotel room.
“Wait! Stop!” The manager’s voice followed their hasty retreat, and then his running feet did the same.
Maddie halted.
The tone of voice alone sent a shiver up Chris’s spine. It must have done the same for their pursuer because his footsteps no longer trailed them as Maddie’s pace accelerated. She whipped the wheelchair around a corner, and Chris’s body wrenched sideways. If not for a steely grip on the chair arms, he would have pitched end over end onto the carpet. He righted himself and let out a muted whoop.
A growl of strangled laughter answered him. “Incorrigible,” she muttered. “Completely incorrigible.”
“Did someone say my name?” he quipped back.
At the end of the hall a set of elevator doors were starting to close behind departing passengers. His driver took off at a full-out run, and speed turned the gaudy hotel carpet psychedelic beneath his chair wheels. She whirled the chair, nearly tossing him out onto his face again, and rammed an arm between the doors just as they would have gone shut. They hissed open, and Chris found himself yanked backward
into the cubicle.
“Aren’t we trapping ourselves in here?” He shot her a questioning glance.
“Hush and take lessons. This is my op now.” She jammed her thumb against the button for the sixth floor. They began to ascend.
“Going up?”
Her fingers danced over the entire keypad, lighting every button.
“Heading down to the lobby stands an excellent chance of landing us straight into the arms of security. We’ll have to play hide-and-seek for real now. Evasive maneuvers.”
“Excellent thinking.”
She answered with a begrudging grunt. The elevator door dinged open, and Chris tightened his hold on the chair arms as they whooshed from the box and up the hall at a brisk trot.
“Heading for the stairwell?”
“The one move they won’t anticipate with you in a wheelchair.”
“Yes, but I’m in this thing for a reason.”
“I’ll have to help you hobble down one floor.”
“Down?”
“Roger that. We need go back to our room to recover the recording of that telephone conversation with Ramsey and those camcorders before the cops swarm the place. I figure we have a brief window of time when the room we rented will be the last place anyone will look for us.”
“I agree we need the recording of the phone conversation, but why recover the cam—” Comprehension halted the words on his tongue.
Yes, the video of the attempted murders was recorded on the receiver device in the pouch at his waist, but in order to bring the perpetrators to justice, rather than send them scurrying out of the country, it was essential that they not realize they’d been caught on camera. Maddie’s brain cells had one up on him this time.
They arrived at the stairwell without meeting anyone. Chris struggled to his feet and balanced on one foot while Maddie folded up the wheelchair and tucked it under one arm. She flung the other arm around his waist, and he gripped her around the shoulders. The descent took forever, step by painful step. They arrived at the landing on the fifth floor with him panting and her breathing hard.
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